


Inari Bot 2000

by Code_The_Poet



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Autistic Kitagawa Yusuke, Autistic Sakura Futaba, Gen, Mostly Fluff, autistic headcanon, video game metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Code_The_Poet/pseuds/Code_The_Poet
Summary: Futaba was hoping to make it to the Phantom Thieves meeting on her own to impress the others, but stupid Inari had to show up and ruin that plan. Then again, maybe having an extra party member isn't such a bad thing when you're underlevelled.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke & Sakura Futaba
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	Inari Bot 2000

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place on 9/1 in the game timeline, and was inspired by the following in-game conversation that happens later that day:
> 
> Yusuke: "I went to get her [Futaba] since I got out of school early."
> 
> Futaba: "What a patronizing Inari."

The front door looms ahead of Futaba like the entrance to a boss fight.

She checks her equipment for the umpteenth time. Phone, headphones, and glasses to boost her abysmally low perception stat. Over her shoulder, a well-padded backpack with her precious laptop, some cash for the train ride, and a few snacks (in case she runs low on HP). An optimized spread, if she does say so herself.

Then why does she feel so unprepared?

Leaving the house shouldn’t be this hard, not when she’d already stopped by Leblanc this morning to see Ren off to school. And just yesterday she had taken the train to Akihabara all alone, so she’s clearly acquired the fast travel skill. But the door stands in her path, sinister and unmoving, and Futaba’s pretty sure she’s misplaced the key that’s supposed to open it.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, but she doesn’t even have to pull it out to know it’s the notification reminding her it’s time to leave. Cautiously, as if the door might zap her the second she touches it, she extends a shaking hand towards the doorknob.

_Knock knock._

Futaba can’t suppress a shriek at the sudden knock on the door, scrambling backwards with her arms raised in a defensive stance. She closes her eyes and braces herself for the attack she knows must be coming.

Instead, a muffled voice calls through the door, “Futaba, is that you?”

She opens one eye, and seeing that the door is still securely shut allows herself to relax a little. Still the idea that there might be a boss behind this door after all is hardly a comforting one, and she’s already ruined any chance of a stealth attack. Reaching for the nearest object she can find (which happens to be Sojiro’s umbrella), she holds it in front of her like a weapon.

“Identify yourself, intruder!” she orders, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

“It’s me, Yusuke,” replies the voice on the other side of the door.

Futaba groans. Of course it’s Inari. “Why are you here?” she demands suspiciously.

“If you must interrogate me, will you at least let me in? It is quite hot out here and I find it uncomfortable to converse through a door like this.”

“Can’t do that,” she shoots back. “I don’t have the boss key for this dungeon yet.”

“Oh. I see.” She hears shuffling on the step. “Er, if I may ask, isn’t it rather unusual for a door to be locked from the outside?”

Why did stupid Inari have to take everything so literally? Explaining herself suddenly seems much more difficult than opening the door, and Futaba sighs in defeat. “Fine. I’ll unlock it. But you have to count to ten before opening it.”

She braces herself for an argument, but Yusuke only says, “As you wish.”

Well. Maybe he isn’t as stupid as she thought.

Futaba knows it takes about five seconds for her to unlock the door and run back to her bedroom, because she’s done it many times when Sojiro forgets his keys. Ten seconds should be enough time to run up, grab her mask, and run back down. She’s on her way up the stairs when she’s struck with the fear that Yusuke will get impatient and open it before the time’s up, and briefly debates staying up there for good. But then he might come up there unannounced, which would be even worse, and so she sticks to the original plan and scrambles back to the entrance with her face safely hidden behind the familiar mask.

“Ten,” she hears Yusuke saying, still through the door. “I’m coming in now.”

The door creaks open, bright sunlight spilling into the dimly lit front hall. Yusuke blinks as he steps in, evidently waiting for his eyes to adjust. Futaba watches him silently through the eyeholes of her mask, waiting to see if he reacts.

“Oh, there you are,” he says finally. His eyes flick over the mask, but he doesn’t say anything.

Futaba frowns behind the mask, a little disappointed at the lack of reaction. “Why are you here?” she repeats, intent on continuing their conversation from before.

“I got out of school early so I thought I would accompany you to the meeting today,” he answers.

Futaba bristles, her anger waging a short yet intense battle with her fear. The anger wins and she yanks the mask off so she can glare at him properly. “Exc _use_ me? I’m not some dumb NPC for you to take on your stupid escort mission!”

He blinks. “What?”

“Ugh. I forgot how uncool you were, Inari.” She crosses her arms and scowls. “I’m _saying_ I can get there on my own just fine.”

“Of course,” Yusuke replies, seemingly oblivious to her scathing tone of voice. “I simply thought it would be more pleasant if we made our way there together.”

He does have a point that having a party member can make difficult journeys more bearable, but Futaba refuses to admit defeat that easily. “Fine. Since you’re already here, I guess I can do you a favour and accompany you there.” She stares him down, daring him to challenge her revised wording, but he simply shrugs.

“Either way, we should be leaving soon.”

Victory.

They set off towards the train station together, but Futaba makes sure to stay one step ahead of Inari so that it’s obvious who the party leader is. His freakishly long legs make the task rather difficult, however, and by the time they reach the entrance of the station she has to stop and lean against the wall to catch her breath.

Yusuke eyes her with concern. “Perhaps we should take a more leisurely pace from this point onwards,” he suggests.

“Shut it, Inari,” she growls. “I’m not used to heat like this after my air-conditioned room is all.” It’s a pretty lame excuse in her mind, but Yusuke nods.

“I suppose that is perfectly understandable. Come, it’s much cooler inside.”

The shaded interior of the station is indeed much more pleasant than the scorching heat outside. Futaba’s relief doesn’t last long, however, as they begin to make their way deeper inside. It’s much more crowded than yesterday evening when she had left for Akihabara, and the noise of a hundred fragmented conversations bounces painfully around her head. Panic rises in her chest and she finds herself frozen in her tracks.

This is bad.

Before she realizes it, she’s crouched on the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. She’s dimly aware that people are having to step around her, but she feels like she’s been hit with a paralyze status effect. Then a shape appears in front of her, and she hears it speak above the static in her head.

“Futaba, can you hear me?”

Oh right, Inari’s here. Now he’s going to think that she needs a dumb escort after all. She buries her head in her knees and hums, trying to block out the noise.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Yusuke’s voice sounds louder now. Has he crouched down as well? That would look even more ridiculous with his height, Futaba thinks as she struggles to process his question. He’s trying to help, probably. Either that or he’s laughing at her for being weak, and she’ll rat him out to Ren if she finds out that’s the case.

“Headphones,” she manages to whisper despite the tight feeling in her chest. “Turn them on.”

“Oh. Right.”

He sounds lost already. Of course she has to be stuck with the most technologically impaired member of the Phantom Thieves. Gathering what seems like the rest of the air in her lungs, she chokes out, “Fliptheswitchontheleftside.”

There’s a light pressure on the left side of her head, and then the familiar electronic hum fills her ears. Immediately, some of the tension leaves her body. Getting up still seems like an impossible feat, but at least she’s getting some air in her lungs again. Lifting her head, she sees Inari crouched in front of her, a concerned look on his face. His mouth is moving, but she can’t hear the words over the blissful sound of active noise cancelling. He’s reaching out a hand, though, and after a moment of hesitation she extends her own hand and allows herself to be pulled to her feet.

Yusuke leads her to a quiet corner, where she slumps pathetically against the wall. She had been so sure that she would be okay after her successful trip last night, not to mention the outing to the beach a few days prior. Now she’s had to be rescued by _Inari_ , of all people. Covering her face with her hands, she lets out a groan of defeat.

A gentle touch on her shoulder reminds her that she’s still effectively deaf to the world around her, and she shakes her head so that her headphones fall around her neck. The noise of the station is still somewhat unpleasant, but at least it’s a duller ache than before.

“You win, Inari,” she says, keeping her face safely covered so she doesn’t have to see his boastful smirk. “Guess you can gloat about weak old me needing an escort after all.”

“Futaba, you’re not weak.” Yusuke’s voice is quieter than normal, without a hint of the triumph she expects to hear. “In fact, I am a little too familiar with some of the sensations you may be feeling right now.”

Huh. This is new information. Futaba temporarily forgets her embarrassment and turns her head to look at him through her fingers, waiting expectantly.

“The truth is, I used to have similar reactions to crowds when I was younger,” he confesses. “The first time Sensei—er, Madarame—brought me to an art exhibit, I had a massive meltdown. It must have been rather embarrassing for him, in hindsight, but to his credit he was exceedingly patient with me.” A sudden shadow passes over his face, and he quickly adds, “Not that it excuses the rest of his actions, of course.”

He sounds sad, but Futaba doesn’t know the right dialogue choice for this situation so instead she reaches out and pats his arm. He flinches a little, but gives her a small smile.

“It’s alright. Being honest about the past helps me to unravel my own conflicting emotions on the topic.” He looks up at the crowds passing by in front of them. “Even now, it is easy for me to understand how such a large influx of sensations can be distressing. I often find myself focusing on a single piece of the entire picture in order to prevent myself from being overwhelmed.” He reaches out his hands to frame the scene in front of him, and something clicks in Futaba’s brain.

“You’re like me.”

“What do you mean?” Yusuke glances back at her, confused. “You’re a hacker, and I’m an artist. With a much better sense of aesthetics, I should add.”

Ugh. How could someone so fond of metaphorical language be so dense? “I mean, our brains are similar. I bet you can memorize an entire scene just by looking at it too.”

Yusuke sniffs in the pretentious way he does when he’s about to talk about art. “An artist must have excellent observational abilities. It is an essential tool for those who wish to master the craft.”

“Then our passions,” she argues, waving her hands to illustrate her point. “Intensely focusing on a few select topics in ways that others can never truly understand. We have that in common, don’t we?”

“Really, Futaba, you say the strangest things.” Yusuke gives her a look as if he’s trying to figure her out. “Though I suppose we may be more alike than I initially realized,” he concedes. “After all, I am also known for saying things far beyond the comprehension of others.”

Futaba rolls her eyes. “You’re such a nerd.”

“I could say the same about you.” He smirks, rising to his feet. “Are you feeling any better? We should really be on our way or we’ll risk being late.”

“Oh yeah.” Futaba gingerly tries to move her legs, but they still don’t seem to be responding properly. “Um, Inari? I may need more help.” She indicates her rebellious legs.

“Of course,” he says. “Would you like me to carry you?”

Futaba splutters indignantly. How could he make such an embarrassing suggestion with a straight face? Still, the idea of not having to walk is actually pretty appealing, and perhaps she can even embarrass him back in the process. She doesn’t even attempt to hide the evil grin that must be spreading across her face.

“I want a piggyback ride,” she demands, reaching out her arms.

“Very well,” Yusuke sighs, and kneels down in front of her so that she can scramble onto his back. “You’re lucky that I am accustomed to prolonged physical exertion thanks to our adventures in the Metaverse.”

When he stands to his full height, Futaba can’t stop herself from shrieking in surprise. “Wow, I can see the tops of everyone’s heads from here!” she cries. “It’s like I’m riding a giant mecha!”

“A giant what?”

“Mecha! You know, the big fighting robot things?” She mimes shooting things out of imaginary arm cannons before realizing he can’t see her very well. “Honestly, Inari, have you even _watched_ anime?”

Yusuke at least has the decency to sound a little ashamed when he replies, “Truthfully, I have not. Madarame never allowed us to waste our time on frivolous hobbies such as television.”

“ _What!?_ ” Futaba can’t stop her jaw from falling open. “It’s only one of the greatest art forms of this country! If I could move I would drag you to my house right now and force you to marathon _Cypher Guardian Chronicles_ with me!”

“I must remind you that we have a meeting that we will soon be late for,” Yusuke says dryly, but then his voice softens. “However, I may have to take you up on that offer another time. It appears I am not as well versed in popular art as an artist of my generation should be.”

“Great! We’ll start with the classics.” She begins to rattle off a list of titles, barely noticing that they’ve rejoined the crowd swarming towards the platform. “Hey, are you even listening, Inari?”

“Unfortunately.” He sounds strained. “Your mouth is right next to my ear, after all.”

Futaba realizes too late that she’s been shouting without meaning to. “Oops,” she says, lowering her voice to a more acceptable volume. “Is this better?”

“Much.”

Listing titles is getting boring anyways, so Futaba switches gears. “This is Captain Oracle, reporting for duty. I am the pilot of the mighty Inari Bot 2000, the star of the rebel war fleet. We are currently approaching the transportation tube to travel to our next battle, the dreaded Meeting Skirmish.”

“I must reiterate,” says Yusuke as they step onto the train, “you really do say the strangest things.”

“Mechas can’t talk, Inari,” she retorts, lightly swatting the back of his head. “Update: we have entered the transportation tube. Hey, mechas can’t sigh either!”

Maybe Inari isn’t such a lame party member after all, she thinks as she looks down on the puny minions of the commuters around them. Not that she’d ever admit it, of course, or his ego would become even more inflated. Still, she supposes she should at least thank him for helping her out.

“By the way, I really appreciate your help back there,” she says softly. “So thanks, I guess.” When he doesn’t say anything, she scowls. “Hey, I’m trying to be nice here! The least you can do is acknowledge it!”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk,” Yusuke defends himself.

Futaba rolls her eyes again, even though she knows he can't see it. “I take it back. You’re a clueless dork, okay?”

“Hm. This is coming from the one who begged me for a piggyback ride.”

“Shuddup.” Futaba rests her head on his back, suddenly feeling like she’s been hit by a sleeping spell. “Update: Captain Oracle is in dire need of a nap. Engage autopilot.”

Yusuke tries to turn his head to look at her. “Futaba, you shouldn’t fall asleep here,” he protests, but she barely hears him. A sleep jingle from some RPG plays in her head, and she smiles.

Mission accomplished.


End file.
